Do Not Spill Coffee On It
by LilyEva
Summary: Hermann finds a letter with a familiar handwriting on his desk. Set before the events of Pacific Rim.


**Notes:** English isn't my native language. You can probably expect some misspeling and/or weird turn of phrases.

* * *

Dear Hermann,

I can easily imagine your surprise after seeing my letter waiting for you on your desk. After all, we're not supposed to write to each other anymore. Besides, what's the point of writing a letter when I can just, you know, shout whatever I need to say from the other side of the lab? Well, I know that this might surprise you even more, but after ten years of collaboration, I've started to understand that talking out loud about anything remotely emotional is not your cup of tea. Plus, I've always been better at sorting out my thoughts on paper. So I think it's time to, you know, fall back into old habits.

If you feel like someone's watching you at this very moment, you're not imagining things. That's me staring at you while pretending to be working. However, there's no need to look over your shoulder like this. First, I know you think you're being discreet but you're not and you've never been. Second, you'll never catch me in the act. I've always been very good at this little game of ours. I'll pretend to be entirely absorbed in studying this new Kaiju sample we got this morning until you've convinced yourself you imagined things, but once you start reading again, you can bet I'll be watching your every move.

I wish I could give you the privacy you need to read my letter in peace, but I can't help myself, I'm sorry. I don't look like it, but I'm currently a bundle of nerves. Yes, this is the reason I've been abnormally quiet since you've entered the lab. Also sorry about that. But you know about my legendary self-control, right? If I had started talking to you, even just to say hello, I would have got everything off my chest right away and you would have died on the spot. And the last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable.

If you're not sitting at your desk yet — and you're probably not, since I know your morning routine, and you can't properly function without your coffee, black without sugar, of course — then don't bother because what you're going to read will probably make you jump out of your chair. In fact, I strongly advise you to find some quiet place to read my letter alone. I don't want you to leave my line of sight, but honestly I'm afraid you might just tear the rest of my letter in shreds in front of me once you understand what I'm getting at.

Alright, brace yourself, Hermann.

I love you.

Well. Now you know. Are you still there? Still reading, I mean? I don't expect you to stay in the lab after _that_. Chances are I'm now banging my head against my desk, wondering why I even wrote this in the first place. I wish I could just go inside your head to read your mind, that would spare me a great deal of anxiety. Please, stop frowning like that, I wasn't being serious. I have no troubles imagining the look of disapproval on your face at the thought of the Drift tech being used for something so trivial. Don't worry, I don't think we'll ever need to drift together. Or to drift at all, for that matter. Your thoughts are safe.

I could stop there but since I'm pretty sure you won't accept this declaration without any explanations, I'll do my best to enlighten you on the subject. You're probably surprised, most likely incredulous, and I'm sure you'll need more than three words to fully acknowledge the fact that I am in love with you. With our common history, it might indeed be hard to believe.

I have loved you since your very first letter.

Before I explain into details just how your letters changed my life, you need to understand that before you, I had never been able to form meaningful relationships with people. Yes, you could say I had lots of friends, but I never formed a close bond with any of them and I was really good at pretending I didn't care. Keeping myself busy was my only priority. I needed intellectual stimulation, and if people couldn't provide me with some, then they probably weren't worth the effort, were they? That's what I used to tell myself to avoid confronting my irrational fear of a friend leaving me. For this reason, I had never allowed myself to have more than casual friendships. I had no idea what I was missing out on until I got your first letter.

I always wondered, how could someone like you exist? Someone who had read all my work and was genuinely interested in working with me? Your letters left a deep impression on me, you know. At the time, we knew absolutely nothing of the Kaiju, it was a brand new field of study, one I was thrilled to discover, and your letters excited me more than anything. You were the only one able to challenge me intellectually. During those three years, your letters were the highlight of my days. Not only were you a highly skilled debater, you were also comprehensive, patient and kind, unlike most people. Remember when I told you that it was the first time I connected so deeply to someone else? You told me you felt the same, and for the first time, I felt like I was no longer alone.

I talked about you to everyone around me, you know. My uncle knew a lot more about you than he wished; my father was sick of hearing about you all the time. Even my mother, whom I only see once or twice a year — when she feels like it — knew about our written correspondence. You were an important part of my life, and you made me happy — so I was always talking about you. Continuously. I was Hermann this, Hermann that, Hermann would love to know this, Hermann would probably have a lot to say about that, well, you get the idea. The frequency of our letters increased drastically at the time. And not all of them were about work.

The first time you started your letters with "Dear Newton", my heart skipped a beat. I knew I was screwed. I started to hope, stupidly, that you might have feelings for me too. This was one of the happiest periods of my life, up until you suggested that we met. I was very conflicted about this. On one hand I was ecstatic, on the other hand, part of me — the one that speaks very quickly and loudly when feeling insecure — was scared of rejection. However, you were so eager to meet me, so reassuring and kind, that you made all my doubts disappear. Nothing could go wrong.

As you know, everything went wrong.

The first meeting was… uncomfortable, to say the least. Let's be honest Hermann, that was a total disaster. You're not entirely to blame though. Let's not dwell on that one too much. I was certain of only two things after that meeting: one, despite how it went, I thought you were rather attractive. Not in a conventional way (I mean, what was that awful tweed jacket you were wearing that day?), but enough to make my heart flutter (Okay. It suited you. There, I said it). Two, I was willing to give us another chance. After three years of total honesty via our letters, I couldn't let go of you that easily.

Things did not improve much, however.

You seemed to hate everything I was. You liked to work in silence, I couldn't think without heavy metal music. You were obsessed with keeping the workspace clean, I was terribly messy. Not once did you mention anything about our past conversations, and no attempt from me to speak about them went anywhere. The differences between the version of you in our letters and the real you were so unsettling that I immediately put a distance between us to protect myself. I couldn't bear the look of annoyance on your face whenever I did something you found irritating, which unfortunately happened a lot.

Of course, you were still a brilliant scientist. Absolutely, completely brilliant, a real genius, the only person who matched my intellect, the only one I could have a decent conversation with. But gone was the friend who understood me and with whom I could share my most private thoughts. Instead, all that was left was a short-tempered man who snapped anytime we had a disagreement.

Slowly I came to think that I might have fallen in love with someone who didn't exist.

Have you kept them? My old letters? Do you read them from time to time, wondering if my words were even real, or if everything has been an act? I locked mine in the second drawer of my desk, a month after we met, when I assumed you couldn't be the man who had written such beautiful things to me. It hurt too much to reread them. Nine years later, they're still there, untouched. I had buried my feelings with them. I never got the heart to get rid of them though. After all, they were the last connection I had to _my_ Hermann, my beloved and closest friend.

Or so I thought.

It all changed almost a month ago, only hours after that particularly exhausting Kaiju attack in Auckland. I'm sure you remember how worried sick I was about my mother, because she was in the area during the attack and I hadn't received any news from her yet. I was in a terrible mood and I almost broke down in front of you. I couldn't get things done or focus on anything. And Pentecost was having none of it. Remember what happened? I nearly yelled at him. Obviously, he didn't like it. The situation was getting out of hands, and I wasn't able to calm down until you stood up for me. You didn't have to, but you did. And, oh boy, seeing you talking over the marshal sure was _something_. Of course, Pentecost was having none of it either. We both got severely reprimanded for our attitude, but nothing we couldn't handle.

I never thought you would have the guts to do what you did that night. To jump to my defense against Pentecost without a second thought. Seeing you standing up to Pentecost (for me), heavily criticizing him (for me) and risking your position _for me_ was more than I could handle. Not to be cheesy (but honestly, Hermann, what do you expect in a fricking _love letter_) but the overwhelming rush of gratitude that followed made my heart inflate like a balloon. You left me completely speechless (and that's saying something). Pentecost took my silence for compliance and left the lab, not without a last warning, but I couldn't care less. I was too busy processing what had happened.

The silence that followed was awkward. For once, I didn't know what to say. I finally managed to mumble a thank you (alright, it was more along the lines of "Hmm, well, uh, so, yeah, right, uh, thanks" because I was still recovering, but you got the point anyway). You weren't looking at me — maybe I'm overthinking things, but you looked stunned, like you couldn't quite believe what just happened. We both got back to work slowly and silently. At the end of the day, I told you I wanted to stay in the lab until I got news from my mother. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing she was safe.

You don't know how grateful I am that you stayed up all night to keep me company. I really needed that. Your presence kept me sane. Just hearing you flipping through pages, typing on the keyboard and writing equations on the board was enough to comfort me. Funny how sometimes it's the little things that matter most.

In the middle of the night, though, you could no longer pretend to work. Were you worried by my silence? Is that why you came to sit by my side? You looked completely exhausted. I didn't look any better. Perhaps it was because of our lack of sleep, or perhaps something had changed between us that night, either way, we started talking about anything and everything. It was then that you brought up the anti-Kaiju wall incident in San Francisco. You told me how you had been worried about your father, despite your conflictual relationship with him. How you knew what I was going through, because you remembered me telling you that my mother, much like your father, had never been present in my life. This was the first time in _nine years_ you mentioned our past conversations. Perhaps you did not realize it, but I certainly did.

You also told me that once it would be over, I could get a tattoo of that Kaiju wherever I wanted (I got this one tattooed on my back by the way — take that, Kaiju!). I never thought I could laugh in a situation like this. Then, awkwardly, you put your hand on my shoulder. I looked at you, and at that moment, I saw you. The version of you from your letters. The version of you I fell in love with. You weren't looking at me — in fact, you seemed particularly interested by the Kaiju remains left on the workbench — but there was a fondness in your eyes I had never seen before — a fondness that somehow felt familiar, a fondness present in our old letters. I was so aware of your presence that your hand on my shoulder felt like it was burning my skin through my shirt.

Hermann, I was dying to hold your hand. I really wanted to. I was about to. Sometimes I'm wondering how things would have turned out if my mom had called me only a minute later. Thank God she was safe! This nightmare was over! You were as relieved as I was. But when the call ended, the mood was gone. I stood there, not knowing what to do, painfully aware that your hand was no longer on my shoulder, that you were now standing far away from me. I remember you standing there, hand on your cane, eyes flickering back and forth between me and the rest of the room... I guess you probably expected me to say something, however I had no idea how to bring this up again — whatever it was — without the dreadful feeling that I had imagined the whole thing up. In the end, we just wished each other good night, and I somehow managed to get back to my room — I don't remember anything about the way back.

From this moment onwards, I knew that the man I once loved was real. _My_ Hermann was really in there, hidden deeply away from the rest of the world behind your introverted behavior. You were there, not lost in old letters but right in front of me, and all the feelings I thought were dead and gone came back, a thousand times more overwhelming than they used to be. That night, I couldn't fall asleep until late — my thoughts kept wandering back to you, keeping me awake even though I was exhausted. The next morning, things between us were back to normal — though we acted a bit more courteously than usual — but I couldn't forget what happened. You were _there_. So close to me. I saw you.

Sometimes I fear you can't see me.

I'm here, Hermann. Behind my (great) taste in music, my (superior) intellect, my (awesome) Kaiju tattoos, and my (oversized) ego, I'm here. And I still love you. I know that during all those years, I probably left you with the impression that I regretted meeting you. Let me be clear. I don't. And I can assure you that everything I have ever told you in my letters — including this one — is true. I hope I managed to convince you, because God, I'm really scared of you never being able to see past my exuberant temperament. Just this once, you're more than welcome to prove me wrong.

Well, I hope this was informative and that I've answered all your interrogations. If you still don't believe me, I don't know what else I can do. For God's sake, Hermann, I love you. For real. You're brilliant and conscientious and reserved and I love you. You're also irritable and stubborn and judgemental and I still love you. The only reason I didn't make a move on you from that night up to now was because I didn't want you to think that I was mocking you, or that I wasn't serious. This is why I'll leave the rest up to you.

It's your decision now. You can either ignore this letter and pretend nothing happened. You can also show it to everyone in the Shatterdome and mock me for the rest of my life (Yes, I know you wouldn't. Sorry. I didn't mean to imply you could be capable of such a thing).

Or, if you think I'm worth it, you can give us a chance.

Just ask me for coffee. Or ask me to have lunch with you. Or anything, really. I'll say yes. I would say yes to anything with you (take that how you like). I'm dead serious. In fact, I've never been more serious in my entire life. As long as I'm with you, I'm okay with everything. Also, I'll do my best to never bring up the issue of that letter unless you do it yourself — so don't worry about it, okay? I know you, I don't expect you to confess your undying love for me in front of the entire Shatterdome or anything. And as I said, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. We could just talk about work, about the weather, about Tendo's new haircut or any other boring stuff. I want us to be able to lay the foundations of a better, less conflictual relationship.

I promise I'll do better. I'll clean my desk and my part of the lab. I won't let Kaiju remains rot in the sink. I'll turn the music down (yes, Hermann, heavy metal music is music). I do believe that if some people click instantly when they meet, others have to work together to make things work, and it doesn't mean that they care less for each other, or that their affection is less authentic. Strangely, we're in both categories, so I'm certain we'll figure something out. Perhaps, with time, you'll feel safe enough to be able to open up to me again, like you did that night. That's all I want.

Hoping you didn't spill your coffee on this letter,

Newt

P.S. we're out of soap can you please bring some when you get back thanks

P.P.S. Probably still suffering in the lab, don't leave me there alone all day!


End file.
